


et tu

by Rag



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Breaking Celibacy Vows, Bulges and Nooks, Canon Universe, Date Rape, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Name-Calling, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 11:13:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rag/pseuds/Rag
Summary: “I’m talkin’ about us, sweet stuff. Lookin’ for a repeat of last week, if you’re down? Never tasted a bulge so sweet-““Keep your voice down!” Kankri seethes. He checks frantically for prying blank eyes and listening ears. “Last week was a mistake. And I would be absolutely thrilled if you never brought it up again.”





	et tu

**Author's Note:**

> this is abusive and unhealthy as fuck, cronus is being really fucking rapey and kankri is emotionally abusive as fuck. also tw for fantasy racism, ableism, and kankri being dickish to otherkin
> 
> i do not agree with basically jack shit either of these dilholes say or do
> 
> if this is your cup of tea, enjoy the porn

Kankri is restless. Meditation is proving fruitless once again, seeing as he can’t really _focus_ on much of anything besides the buzzing, frantic, oh-so-mildly uncomfortable energy that hums under his skin. And he’s aware that proper meditation would have him sit with that feeling and calmly try to neutralize it, but he really cannot stand the thought of lingering in that state any longer than he already has – a solid two minutes, at least. Which was a solid minute longer than the last time he’d done it. He’s making progress. The road to enlightenment is difficult but rewarding. Upon reflection, he feels very enlightened about himself and the world around him. Enough of that sitting and thinking, he has more active pursuits of knowledge to chase. He’s pored over the books hundreds of times before, but there are always new passages to focus attention on, and new interpretative lenses to apply to the texts that enrichen their meaning in the most illuminating of ways. He’s very excited to read through the tomes of Alternian fashion history through the eyes of the highblood gaze, to see what new ideas spring to life from the dead words.

He’s not so wrapped up in the thought that he doesn’t smell the burnt earthy stink of Cronus’s hand-rolled cigarette, or see him leaning on the wall outside the library, puffing at the thing. Lacking for human tobacco, he fills them with dried grass from the ground, and uses blank pages at the back of the ancient books as the rolling paper.

“Where were you?” Cronus asks, grinning. “Been looking all over.”

“It’s none of your business, but I was meditating.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Yes, you _would_ think that. It’s not something that everyone can appreciate, and you certainly don’t strike me as the type to - no, forgive my tone and rampant latent ableism. It’s hard to control, sometimes, but I must make a better effort to accommodate your mental … abilities.”

Cronus’s smirk flattens out into annoyance. Good. “Listen.” He takes a drag of his faux-human-style cigarette and coughs. “Fuck.”

“You need to stop that disgusting habit.”

“Babe, don’t be like that,” he says with a tight voice. “This is who I am. Maybe a bad boy like me don’t care about how unhealthy-“

“Don’t call me babe. And I don’t care about your health, which wouldn’t be terribly impacted by burnt weeds, even if your incorporeal state made the point moot. You need to stop because it’s only a matter of time before you run out of blank pages to burn.”

 “No shit? Yeah, I guess you’re right. Huh.” Cronus looks at the sky thoughtfully, as if there was more than a buzzing gnat where his brain should be. Kankri despises him. He hates being around him. He hates talking to him. He needs to leave and get to his studies immediately, before he brings up anything. Uncomfortable.

“Guess I’ll just use the boring pages then.”

But Kankri can’t just _leave_ , not when Cronus refuses to stop saying things like _that_.

“There is perhaps no one here that I trust less to make that value judgement than you.”

Cronus looks confused. Insult not landed, then. Kankri feels that flush of pleasure he gets whenever his insults fail to garner direct confrontation. “Babe, this is getting off on the wrong foot. I wanted to talk to you about somethin’. Somethin’ personal.”

Kankri feels his face get hot. He knows exactly what this is about. And no.

“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about. And I’m incredibly busy. I have things to learn today, and none of them involve you.”

“I’m talkin’ about _us_ , sweet stuff. Lookin’ for a repeat of last week, if you’re down? Never tasted a bulge so sweet-“

 “ _Keep your voice down!”_ Kankri seethes. He checks frantically for prying blank eyes and listening ears. “Last week was a _mistake_. And I would be absolutely _thrilled_ if you never brought it up again.”

“Didn’t seem like a mistake at the time, babe. You seemed pretty fuckin’ thrilled with how things were shaking out.”

Kankri feels himself grow. Uncomfortable. At the memory. Porrim had hosted the party, she’d scored some human beer from some dream bubble that Meenah had snuck into and shared it with everyone. And everyone behaved foolishly. Most of them seem intent on forgetting their mistakes and restoring the relative peace of the bubble. Not Cronus. Cronus seems more than intent on remembering them.

“I was inebriated. I couldn’t in good faith have actually-”

“An’ I wasn’t?”

“Irrelevant.”

“You know what I think? I think you just need a lil’ something to loosen you up, babe, and then that fox comes out.”

“Disgusting.”

“There’s something really fuckin’ hot about gettin’ you undressed, you know that?” He fingers at the hem of Kankri’s shirt, hiking it up a bit, exposing a little bit of flesh. Kankri slaps his hand away.

“Do _not_ touch me. I’m leaving. Do not follow me.”

“Fine, be like that. I’ll be in my room if you change your mind. Got somethin’ interesting to show you.”

“I can’t fathom that it’s anything I want to see. I absolutely will not be coming to your room, today or tomorrow or ever. Good day.” Kankri opens the door to the library and closes it.

He finds the book he was looking for and pulls it off the shelf, brings it to his table. He’s aware that his movements are jerky and awkward and that his breaths are coming quick. But he has more important things to think about than that _filth_. He opens the book and tries to read. He scans the lines aggressively, and realizes at the end of the page that he hasn’t understood a single word.

He feels his bulge lashing languidly against his pants. Filthy. Filthy and stupid. He does _not_ want to engage in any sort of base animal bulge play with Cronus. He would rather do anything else. Like read this tome and apply a critical lens to it. Fuck, what was the lens he wanted to apply?

Fuck. He can’t remember. He’ll go with compulsory mating. No, fuck, no he won’t. He’ll go with. _Fuck_.

Cronus had taken his time with him. He’d fingered his slit softly and slowly before kneeling between his legs and. Kankri had never even _heard_ of that. Apparently it was a human thing. Licking it. _Licking_ a bulge. And after years of celibacy. He’d wrapped his lips around his sharp teeth and then started licking into his nook and.

Critical readings. Critical readings of the text. Important knowledge to be gleaned, that would unlock the systemic power structures that kept each of them down for millennia. He tries to focus.

_Alternian priests were given a ceremonial garb made up of coarse cotton. The cotton was dyed according to his or her caste. The garb of the low bloods were paler approaching white, whilst the higher castes were assigned a richer dye._

His nook starts to ache. Stupid, stupid. He wants to be filled. He wants Cronus to get between his legs and fill him up-

This is fruitless. This is absolutely fruitless, and will continue to be fruitless. He closes the book.

He could relieve himself, maybe. Maybe that would be the best way to go about this. But he doesn’t want to. Breaking his vows with someone else was bad enough. He absolutely should not be afforded the luxury of doing this himself. Or something. It’s hard to think. But he absolutely does _not_ want to diddle himself over memories of Cronus licking into him, or filling up his nook, or _anything_ of the sort.

Cronus mentioned having something to show him. Knowing him, it’s almost undoubtedly his bulge. But maybe it’s something interesting. Maybe it’s something worth looking at.

The excuse is weak. Kankri is aware of this. But it’s enough to convince him to get up, adjust his pants, and head over to Cronus’s room.

-

He’s smug when he opens the door. Smug and stupid, grinning that stupid way that he thinks looks sleek but just makes him look confused. “That didn’ take long at all, toots.” He looks at the clock on his wall, ticking out pointlessly according to some long-dead human measurement system. “15 minutes, not bad, woulda guessed it’d take at least 20. Gettin’ desperate?”

“Absolutely not,” Kankri lies. “You said you have something to show me. I was curious what it was.”

Cronus grins. “Oh, I got somethin’ to show you, alright. Why don’t you close the door?”

The odds of the mysterious something being anything but his bulge diminish with each passing word. Kankri closes the door anyway.

“C’mon, sweet lips, it’s right over here…” he unzips his pants.

“Of course. How could I have imagined it would be anything else? How could I-“ the words catch in his throat as Cronus cups the front of his pants.

“Shit, look at you. Already out and ready to go, and I haven’t even touched ya yet.”

Kankri has no response for that. Fuck.

“No need to be ashamed, babe. It’s natural. We’re just makin’ like monkeys.”

“I, for one, am absolutely, definitively _not_ a monkey.”

Cronus palms Kankri’s bulge, and Kankri shudders. It’s so damn sensitive, the soft cotton of his pants rubbing against it is almost painful, and it’s definitely getting wet and disgusting with his slick.

“Why don’t we put that mouth to good use?”

“What?”

“Think you’re the only one who gets blown ‘round these parts? Maybe I’ve been thinkin’ about your sweet lips on my bulge all week.”

Kankri’s face flames. Again, at a loss for words.

“Get on your knees, babe.” Cronus’s voice shakes a little in anticipation. And as stupid and loathsome as he is, it makes Kankri’s nook wet to hear him like this.

He gets on his knees. Part of him can’t believe he’s doing this. He stares at Cronus’s undulating bulge and wonders if maybe he should come up with an excuse to leave. But no, he wants to do this. He opens his mouth and hopes the taste won’t be too horrid as he licks it tentatively. It slaps softly against his face as Cronus grabs his hair and groans.

The taste is strange. Not particularly pleasant. But doing this, being on the other end of this, knowing how it feels, is doing things to him. His pulse races.

“That’s it, babe, _god._ Go on.”

He goes on. He grabs it gently at the base and holds it still as he licks it slowly. His own bulge thrashes, desperate for this, and it makes his movements sloppy and unfocused. He wants to touch himself, but no, absolutely not. He clenches his empty fist and tries not to moan, just from licking Cronus’s bulge, like a filthy slut.

Maybe he’s a slut. Maybe the vow of chastity was just delaying the inevitable fact that he’s an insatiable slut. He’d by lying if he said the thought didn’t send whorish shivers down his spine.

Cronus mumbles some filthy nonsense at him and he groans. He’s getting desperate, this is entirely too much without any stimulation to himself. He feels like he’ll lose his mind. And he loves it. He loves denying himself. He loves not communicating this to Cronus, he loves seeing how long it’ll last before Cronus initiates anything. Maybe he won’t initiate anything. Maybe he’ll just pail all over Kankri’s face and leave him there, wet and wriggling, unable to get over his ridiculous aversion to relieving himself. _God_ , what a thought, what an idea, Kankri’s blood boils at the thought. He feels like he’s about to come just thinking about it.

Cronus yanks at his hair a bit too hard. Kankri realizes he’s pulling him up. He rises up off his aching knees and follow Cronus’s lead to the bed. Doing this in a bed is stupid and will result in a filthy mess. Kankri knows it’s a human thing, and he finds it absolutely ridiculous, but it’s not his bed to clean, and he’s too aroused to care overmuch about the absurdity of it.

 He doesn’t know what he wants more – for Cronus to touch him, to fuck him, or to finish in his mouth and leave him completely unsatisfied. Cronus pushes him down and pulls his sweatpants off in one awkward motion. Getting him off, then, good, oh, god. Kankri’s bulge is absolutely thrashing, and in the open it’s so _apparent_ how aroused his is by all of this, and without the soporific effect of the alcohol he’s washed in shame.

Cronus runs his hands down the inside of Kankri’s legs, and they feel like fire the closer they get to his groin. “Take off your sweater, babe.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Kanny.”

“I don’t want to.”

“What if I just…” he runs a clawed fingertip down the hem threateningly. The hem of Kankri’s one-of-a-kind sweater, that Porrim made for him, that must have taken hours.

“Fine! Fine. Have your way. Fine.” He takes it off carefully and sets it aside.

He’s cold. He’s really fucking cold, and completely naked, and it’s humiliating.

Cronus laughs to himself. “Good. You’re so pretty, babe.”

“Shut up.”

“You know, seeing our junk together like this… ‘s really hot, you know? There’s somethin’ so fuckin’ hot about fucking muties.”

Kankri is genuinely shocked, although upon reflection he probably shouldn’t be.

“Absolutely fucking disgusting, classist, vile garbage-“ but he can’t speak anymore as Cronus’s bulge finds its way into his nook, and Cronus’s hand wraps around his bulge. The noise he makes is mortifying and his blank eyes roll back involuntarily.

“What were you sayin’? Fuck, you feel good.”

One of the best parts of being fucked is that Kankri doesn’t care what stupid shit spills out of Cronus’s mouth anymore, because the physical sensation is enough to drown it out. Yes, this, this is what he wanted, fuck the denial, _this_ is what he needed, to be stuffed and stroked and made to _feel it_. Cronus is so big and slick inside of him, and he moves with that soft, thrashing force that makes Kankri want to scream. He takes his hand away from his bulge after not too long, but it’s still more than enough, his nook feels like it’s so sensitive he’ll explode just from this.

“That’s it. You’re such a slut for it.”

“Yes, I’m a slut, I’m a slut-“ what is he _saying_ , these things are absolutely _filthy_ and falling unbidden from his lips like badly-scripted pornography and somehow that turns him on, he really _is_ a slut, isn’t he? He spreads his legs open farther so that he can take Cronus in deeper, so that he can buck against him and have some little modicum of control over the thrusts and the pleasure. He wants this to last forever. He wants to be fucked like this for hours, but he knows from experience that neither of them will last more than a few minutes. And sure enough, it feels like barely a handful of thrusts later when Kankri feels himself reaching the point of no return, that horribly powerful peak. He says some more things he’ll _absolutely_ regret after, he already feels the shame of them burning in him, but that just spurs him on more. Begging for more, harder, yes, yes-

Cronus calls him a slut one more time, and that’s all it takes. He arches his back and hollers some abominable noise as his vision blacks out.

As he starts to come down, he hears Cronus curse, and then feels his slurry release in him. _Inside_ of his nook. Filthy, disgusting, absurdly arousing. He looks down and sees the mix of their juices, bright red and deep purple, swirling together disgustingly all over their legs and dripping into the bed. Not his bed to clean. Not his problem.

Cronus pulls off of him and swears when he looks at the bed. He stumbles almost drunkenly into the bathroom and comes back with towels, which he messily rubs into the mess. He’s flushed, and his stupid slicked-back hair is mussed.

“You gonna help or just watch?”

 “I see absolutely no need to help. You should have thought of this before … doing this here.”

“Fuckin’ ice queen over here, fuck the guy and he won’t even help me clean up.”

Kankri tries to keep his smile to himself as he grabs a corner of a towel to wipe himself off. It’s not his best trait, but he does somewhat, perhaps, enjoy it when others are inconvenienced or bothered. Especially by something he had a hand in.

He slips into his pants and sweater. Finally starting to feel warm again, he heads for the door, because he _needs_ to be alone right now before he does something outrageous. Like cuddle. Absolutely not.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, Cronus.”

“Really? You’re just gonna leave?”

“I’m sorry, did you have something to say? I was under the impression this relationship was purely physical in nature. _Did_ you have something to say to me?”

Cronus stops cleaning and looks up at him.

“I… I mean, we could talk about shit.”

“Like what?”

“Uh.” Cronus looks away, clearly puzzling that little head for something to talk about.

“As I thought,” Kankri says. “You know where to find me if you think of anything.”

He closes the door behind him without looking back. He heads back to the library, fixing his hair along the way.

His head is clearer than before he came here, that much was true. But all the same, he feels like he can’t think. He doesn’t know what he wants. He honestly doesn’t know whether or not he wants to do that again, although he knows he will, if Cronus so much as looks in his direction.

Maybe he should meditate upon the matter.

But maybe not. No, he thinks not. He’d rather not. He’ll just get back to his studies. Hopefully that little session will have cleared his head enough to finally focus on the critical readings.


End file.
